


Splinters always hide under the skin

by Leu (Karaii)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Cheating, Gellert is a narcissistic sociopath, M/M, Rough Sex, dubcon, who is still in love with his ex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 13:37:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21476887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karaii/pseuds/Leu
Summary: Years before Gellert Grindelwald stole Percival Graves' identity, he seduced him seeking to fill his personal bingo card of men with one of Albus' names, but then he found himself desiring Theseus Scamander who didn't fit the mold.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Gellert Grindelwald/Theseus Scamander, Original Percival Graves/Gellert Grindelwald
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	Splinters always hide under the skin

Years before Gellert Grindelwald chose Percival Graves as his target specifically to imitate and infiltrate the MACUSA, he’d been drawn to Herr Graves because of a shallow similarity to the first and last man he'd ever loved. Oh, it wasn't the razor sharp wit, or the elegance, or the hard wired intelligence, though all three were pleasant enough reminders.

It was the name.

Albus' second name.

“Percival,” he’d murmured into the man’s throat, the evening he’d successfully charmed himself into Herr Graves’ breeches. “Do you like that?”

“Very much so, Mister Wulfric,” Percival had said, half out of breath, and Gellert Grindelwald had shuddered at the words, deriving a perverse pleasure at smearing Albus’ many names just so.

He’d fucked a Herr Ulfric Skarsgård the month prior, and a Sir Brian Gagwilde three before that, and now he was only missing an Albus, though it would be a challenge to find someone named so who was not also named Dumbledore.

It had become a dangerous game, this bedding of boys that reminded him of what he’d lost. The pool of men who slept with men was small, even on an international level, and Gellert could not help but leave a strong impression with every soul he damaged. For he did damage them: none would ever be Albus, and thus none could truly have Gellert. He left them craving, or crying, or cursing him, the three states that Albus himself had left Gellert with to this very day.

In the end, Theseus Scamander was no exception.

Percival had introduced them, a couple of days before Gellert had planned to ditch him. “Wulfric, this is Theseus Scamander,” he gestured gamely. “We fought in the Great War together.”

“A British soldier,” Gellert murmured, raking his eyes up and up and up, for this man was quite tall. “What front?”

“East,” Theseus said shortly. “And you?”

Gellert grinned coyly. “All of them.”

Percival coughed. “Wulfric was conscripted by Germany.”

Theseus’ sharp stare was thrilling. The poor boy didn’t know whether to be affronted, scandalized, or ready to do battle. It was intoxicating to have such instinctive violence restrained for the sake of polite company. It reminded Gellert fiercely of Albus in a foul mood, and that was enough for him to decide to break his current name-related game streak and instead go all in for some gratuitous British-style hate sex.

“It wasn’t by choice,” Percival assured Theseus. “He’s an auror, now, like you.”

“Oh?” Theseus said delicately. “For MACUSA?”

“Freelance, actually.” Gellert smirked. “I don’t like to be tied down, you see...”

“Wulfric’s working for the Misuse of Magical Artifacts department.” Percival was obviously proud of him, and it was cute, if misplaced. “He’s tracked down more Dark artifacts this month than anybody else.”

“Is that so. Hm. Congratulations, Mister Wulfric.”

Gellert smiled with all his teeth. “Just doing my job.”

Theseus didn’t trust him, but that was all right. Getting uptight and straight-laced men to bend over backwards for him was part of the thrill.

“How long are you staying on this side of the pond?” Gellert kept his eyes on Theseus’, eager to know how long it would take for the stiff-backed soldier to look away.

“A week,” Theseus said cooly, not intimidated in the least. “If I may be so bold, your english is very good, Mister Wulfric.”

“My mother was from Britain,” Gellert said, honestly. “My American accent is, regrettably, all Graves’ fault.”

“Hey, now.” Percival grinned. “I haven’t corrupted you too badly if you keep calling the Atlantic Ocean the damned _pond_.”

At Percival’s laughter, Theseus relaxed into a smile, too. Hm, how curious... Perhaps there was past history between Gellert’s Percival and this Mister Scamander. Not such a straight boy after all! He could work with this...

“You’ve fucked him, haven’t you?” Gellert asked, not an hour later, pressed up against Herr Graves in his office.

“What?" Percival grunted. “Who?”

“Scamander.” Gellert gave a short, tight tug.

“Fuck! Hah--” Percival grinned sharply. “Are you jealous, Mister Wulfric?”

“Not at all,” Gellert said, honestly. “But thinking of you two giving each other handjobs,” he stroked, harder, “in the middle of a war, desperate, thinking someone like me might come and kill you at any minute--”

“Jesus,” Percival moaned. “The fuck is wrong with--oh--fuck--”

“I wish I’d seen it,” Gellert whispered, coming in close, close enough to breathe Percival’s feverish breaths. “I wish I’d seen you two, shell-shocked, whimpering into each other--”

“Shit,” Percival laughed, incredulous but aroused, “you’re so fucking crazy--”

“I promise I’d let you live if you gave me a show,” Gellert said, and devoured Percival’s choked off noises with his mouth.

Afterward, Gellert licked up Percival’s cum off his fingers.

“You’re so sick,” Percival said, out of breath, but his voice was fond.

Mm. Gellert might miss this one, when he left. Which was sign enough that he’d lingered too long on this dalliance. It was time to move on. The Scamander boy was staying in America for a week -- that’s how long Gellert would stay, too. Tick tock.

With the ridiculous American prohibition on alcohol and Gellert’s interactions with Theseus otherwise limited to the MACUSA headquarters, seducing him was a significant challenge. But Gellert Grindelwald had never met a challenge he could not overcome.

“Mister Wulfric,” Theseus said stiffly. “What are you doing?”

Gellert had leaned in close, staring deep into Theseus’ eyes. “You have demiguise hair.”

“_Excuse_ me?”

Gellert picked a silvery strand off of Theseus’ coat, twisting it experimentally. “The hair of a demiguise. It’s used to make invisibility cloaks.” He leaned back with a satisfied air. “They’re quite illegal without a permit, Mister Scamander. Are you hiding something?”

Theseus flushed an impressive red. “Shit,” he said. “Damn it, Newt.”

“Oh?” Gellert’s pupils dilated. He had planted the hair, not expecting to strike gold so easily. “So you are hiding something. How daring, Mister Scamander.”

Theseus shook his head. “No, it’s not--” He was rather attractive when he was flustered. “It’s my stupid brother.”

“Your brother owns an invisibility cloak?” Gellert leaned in, focus shifting, as always alert towards even the most remote possibility of the Deathly Hallows.

“No--at least, not that I know of.” Theseus smiled helplessly with an air of ‘well, what can you do?’. “He’s got a pet demiguise. Damn thing sheds all over Newt like a cat.”

“Ah.” Gellert leaned back a little, and shifted focus again back to his goal of getting into the man’s pants. The brother topic seemed to be a good place to start, considering how less stiff Theseus had become just thinking about him. “Your Newt sounds like an adventurous fellow.”

“You have no idea,” Theseus said, exasperated.

Jackpot, thought Gellert.

“You’re the older brother, I assume?” Albus had had the same air to him, when he spoke of his siblings. (If only that goatfucker Zimtzicke hadn’t mucked it all up--)

“Is it that obvious?” Theseus smiled.

Gellert smiled slyly. “Only if you’re looking for it.”

Theseus turned a little red again, but he didn’t seem wholly adverse to it. Now we’re getting somewhere, Gellert thought.

“Are you trying to fuck Theseus?” Percival asked later that night, balls deep in already.

“Are you--_ah_,--jealous, Mister Percival?” Gellert asked breathlessly, echoing back Graves’ own words.

“Nope.” Percival thrust his hips in hard. “But you won’t get far with him. He’s got a girl back home.”

"Aww, Percy!” Gellert gasped. “Did he break your heart?”

“Oh, fuck off.” Percival made to pull out.

“No, no, this is delicious.” Gellert grabbed his ass, pulling him closer, deeper into him. “Did he make you cry?”

“You are the sickest person I’ve ever met,” Percival snarled, and fucked him so hard Gellert’s laughter choked off into cut off moans. Hate sex was always deeply satisfying, because hatred was always more genuine than lust.

So while Percival Graves was souring towards him, Theseus Scamander was growing more pliant. His weak spot, it seemed, was his brother-complex, and that was easy enough to exploit just by letting him talk about it.

“Me and Newt went to Hogwarts,” Theseus was explaining. “But never together. I’m nine years older than him, so by the time he enrolled I had long since graduated.”

Hogwarts? That was the ridiculous school Albus had hidden himself in. Did that mean--?

“Was Albus Dumbledore your professor, by any chance?” Gellert asked, because he couldn’t help himself, god damn him.

“Ah, no. Professor Dumbledore was hired after I left.” He looked at Gellert oddly. “Do you know him, Wulfric?”

“Ah--by reputation only.” Gellert cleared his throat. “His publications in Transfiguration Today and his research into the uses of Dragon’s Blood are remarkable.”

“My brother would like you,” Theseus said fondly. “You talk just like him.”

Gellert had to forcibly dissociate to avoid reacting violently at the mere thought of this fuckwit Rotzlöffel’s brother working under Albus, adoring him. He thought to himself that if he ever met this Newt Scamander, he would flay him alive und fick ihn tot.

“Did you become an auror right out of school?” Gellert asked, to switch the damn topic.

“With five outstanding newts,” Theseus said proudly.

Was this Bruder Ficker really so obsessed with his thrice-damned brother--?

His expression must’ve said something because Theseus laughed out loud. “That’s what we call our final exams,” he explained. “Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. N.E.W.T.”

“You English and your acronyms.” Albus had spoke of WOMBATs and OWLs, he remembered, though not what they stood for.

“The Americans aren't so great, either! We just call our government the Ministry of Magic, no acronyms necessary. Heh. I bet Ilvermorny’s got its fair amount of head-scratchers, too.” Theseus paused. “Ah, but you’re not American at all, are you? Where did you go to school, Mister Wulfric?”

“Nowhere where such acronyms were used,” Gellert said, cleverly avoiding answering the question. “Percival tells me they call one of their classes 'dadaism’, as if to mock its irrelevance.” They wouldn’t think that if they took the Dark Arts at Durmstrang, but, alas.

“The D.A.D.A.?” Theseus laughed. “I’d never thought to call it dada, but now I can’t unhear it!”

And so it went. Gellert pushed and pulled and gave little or nothing of himself away while fostering a sense of camaraderie and closeness with Mister Theseus Scamander. The thrill of the hunt was always more satisfying when drawn out, but he had three days left and he had to make them count. In the meantime, he resorted to Herr Graves.

“No--not right now,” Percival said, backing away.

Gellert simply drew in closer. “Mein Schüttelneurotiker Soldat,” he purred. “Why not now?”

“I--" Percival's face was pained. "You’re fucking with me--”

“Of course I am,” Gellert said. “But why should that stop you from enjoying it?”

Percival Graves was a hardened veteran of the Great War To End All Wars, but that didn’t stop his eyes from shimmering with something unshed as Gellert took him down to the root. His moans were broken and full of self-loathing, and his cum even more bitter. Gellert swallowed it whole.

“Don’t hurt him,” Percival said quietly, after, an arm thrown over his face.

“Ah, es tut mir Leid, Herr Graves,” Gellert murmured, pushing away Percival’s hands to meet his eyes. “But I intend to make him scream.”

The day before Theseus Scamander was to board a boat back to England, Gellert managed to get himself invited into Theseus’ hotel room. It was an elegant enough local, near Central Park, and therefore absolutely teeming with Muggeln--or No-Majes, as the Americans called them. Theseus walked among them with the casual air of a man unafraid, confident in his magical superiority. Gellert, who had seen their guns and Seen their bombs, was always more alert when among their ilk, though he was usually quite good at hiding it.

“I didn’t take you for a shy man, Mister Wulfric,” Theseus said with an enigmatic smile. “Are you nervous?”

“Never of you,” Gellert assured him. “This your place?”

“Fourth floor,” Theseus agreed.

The moment they were through the door, Gellert leaned in to steal a kiss. Theseus placed a hand on Gellert’s chest, pausing him midway there.

“Percival told me about you,” he said, but he didn’t push him away.

“All good things, I hope,” Gellert murmured. “Did you not bring me here for this?” He ghosted a hand over Theseus’ pants, not quite touching.

“I was curious,” Theseus admitted. “A homosexual German, quite brazen about his intentions. It’s like you don’t possess shame.”

“I don’t,” Gellert said honestly. “Why should I?”

Theseus cocked his head to a side. “This is against the law, you know.”

“Are you going to arrest me?” Gellert grinned roguishly. “How dutiful. May I suck your Schwanz to avoid imprisonment? Or, oh, better yet-- do you want to punish me personally? You can even cuff me.”

“Absolutely shameless,” Theseus said, admiringly. “I can almost believe you’re not acting.”

“I’m not,” Gellert said coyly. “Let me prove it to you, Herr Polizist.”

Theseus didn’t cuff him, or even kiss him, but he did relax into a handjob when Gellert pressed in close, hands coming up to rake through Gellert’s combed back hair, then clutch it, desperately.

“Shit,” Theseus murmured. “That’s good. Oh, fuck. Twist a little--like--like this--”

It had been a while for Mister Scamander, it seemed, because the moment his hands overlapped with Gellert and helped him tug, he came all over them both.

“Shit, I shouldn’t have done that,” Theseus sighed, but, again, he didn’t draw away.

“Why not?” Gellert asked, nuzzling Theseus’ neck and kissing his cheek. Theseus was young enough that he’d be hard again within half an hour, if Gellert kept up the momentum. Easy.

“I’m courting someone,” Theseus said, staring at his cum-stained hand over Gellert’s shoulder. “This is unfair to her.”

“Then tell her to fuck someone, too,” Gellert said, biting his earlobe. “You can even watch, and it will be a bonding experience. Like war-killing. It makes all men complicit.”

“Merlin, you--” Theseus laughed. “You really are as twisted as Percival said.”

Gellert Grindelwald was far more twisted than Herr Graves could conceive of, and maybe someday he’d find out just how much. But today, he was safe.

“Sex is just sex,” Gellert said reasonably. “You can fuck men and still love your woman. Love is separate.” He sighed. “It lives regardless of what the body wants.”

Theseus stared at him like he’d grown another head. “That’s...oddly profound of you.”

“A man can be many things, Herr Scamander,” Gellert said. “Now, do you want to fuck me, or shall I take you instead? You can even think of Percival, or your woman. Or England, as you say. I am not particular.”

Theseus choked on a laugh. “You really are barking mad.” But he grabbed Gellert’s arms and pushed him back--back towards the bed.

They fell into a tangle, and this time Theseus kissed him, being rough about it which suited Gellert just fine. He rubbed himself up against Theseus, growing hard in anticipation. He didn’t always need to get off to feel satisfied, the carnal act in and of itself being as exciting as the process of seduction, or of fighting, and ideally defeating, his victims, but it was an added bonus he rarely neglected. He reached down to unbutton himself, and met Theseus’ hands along the way.

“You aren’t sticking anything in me,” Theseus breathed heavily. “And don’t leave any marks.”

“None I cannot heal,” Gellert agreed. “Everything else is free game?”

“No cuffs,” Theseus said, quickly.

“But roleplay, Herr Polizist?”

Theseus’ laugh transformed into a moan. “You’re incorrigible,” he murmured. “Get on your fucking knees.”

“Jawohl,” Gellert said smartly.

Theseus ended up fucking him against the headrest, fast and deep and sinfully in character. Who would have thought the stiff-lipped Brit had it in him! But it was always the stiff ones that came apart the most like this, when given the space to unleash. Gellert fantasized about the battlefield, for a moment, getting face-fucked into the dirt, a British voice telling him he was so good like this, on his knees, and his brain side-lined helplessly into Albus, who would have whispered, _Nobody else but me_\--

“Sheiße, Alchen--” Gellert moaned, and came so hard he saw stars.

“Fuck,” Theseus moaned into his shoulder. “Oh, fuck, Wulfric--”

Gellert relaxed into the intrusion, his orgasm taken care of, and Theseus cursed as he went in even deeper, contorting his spine, seeking his own relief, desperate to feel the release.

“Shit--shit--”

“Please come inside me, sir,” Gellert murmured, cum-drunk. “Fill me up.”

Theseus came undone. The heat of him crawled up Gellert in a way that was almost unpleasant, but still deeply satisfying. Then Theseus collapsed heavily onto Gellert, panting like he’d run across the trenches dodging a hundred near-death experiences.

“Fuck,” he whispered raggedly into Gellert’s mussed up hair. “That was great.”

“Mmhmm.” Gellert shifted underneath him, getting more comfortable, until they were facing each other. “I’m always up for an encore,” he suggested coyly.

“Merlin and Morgana,” Theseus exhaled. “How old even are you? I can’t go again.”

Gellert wouldn’t be able to get it up, either, but he wouldn’t have minded another round regardless. Perhaps Percival would do so, when Gellert went back. He’d undoubtedly still be in his office, working late, crease between his brows. Surely he’d know, simply seeing Gellert’s smug face--what he’d done. Surely it would piss him off enough to want to mess him up. Maybe they’d even duel. Gellert was confident he’d win, but an enraged Percival would be a pleasure to take down, to take apart...

“Hey,” Theseus said, his face very near his own. His half-lidded eyes spoke of post-coital intimacy, a state Gellert knew well how to take advantage of.

“Hey,” he said, back to him.

“That was...” Theseus was already red-faced from exertion, but a deeper blush made his freckles more apparent. “That was really good. Thank you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Gellert said, already rather bored of this, but a very good actor nonetheless. He might need Scamander in the future, now that he knew there was a link to Albus through him. And having a closeted policeman in his pocket was good in any country.

“Percy’s gonna kill me,” Theseus said.

“No he won’t,” Gellert said confidently. “He loves you.”

“What.” Theseus’ eyes boggled. “Excuse me?”

“Ach, mein Schlimmes. English words, you know, they get confusing.” Gellert was actually perfectly fluent, but the ego of man was fragile, and he respected it enough to pretend otherwise. “I mean to say, Herr Graves cares too much to see you dead. He kept you alive in the war, yes?”

Theseus looked troubled indeed. Hah. What a mess boys made in their desire to conform to this world and its nonsensical norms. He and Albus had still agreed on that much, even at the end.

Scheiße. A good fuck and even Gellert’s brains got scrambled. Good thing he was ditching them both by the morrow.

“It was good to fuck you,” Gellert said. “Mind if I use your bathroom? I’m leaking out my ass.”

Theseus snorted, and laughed. It was an odd-sounding thing, but it didn’t seem wholly unhappy, so Gellert counted his losses and shimmed out of Theseus’ arms and out of the bed. He could wandlessly clean himself up, but that often left him feeling unhealthy, and there was always the danger that he’d Vanish part of his innards with it. That was the downside of having too much raw power--less finesse for the delicate things.

Theseus joined him in the shower, some minutes after. He kissed Gellert’s neck, and then his back, down, down, following the water dripping down his ballsack and, oh, yes, further--until Theseus’ lips were wrapped around his prick in a valiant effort to suck it whole. Theseus was not very good at first, clearly out of practice--or perhaps, Gellert realized in delight, this was his first time--but he made a good effort, and just the sight of that mouth around his cock and those almond eyes straining with tears made Gellert aroused enough to cum enough to choke Theseus into coughing it all up.

That act of bravery deserved its just reward, so Gellert knelt down, took Theseus’ face in his hands, and kissed him deeply, tasting the salt of himself and Theseus’ tears, now diluted to a memory.

“Dankeschön,” Gellert said, softly.

He left soon after, leaving Theseus in a hotel room that smelled of their sex. Gellert walked the now-barren streets of New York, confident in his conquest. It was dark enough that surely even Percival had gone home, was probably even exhausted enough to sleep. Gellert, for his part, felt well-fucked enough to sleep, too. But he still found his way into Percival’s apartment, casually undoing the locks and wards and paranoid defenses, well-versed in this sequence for it was not his first time sneaking in (and nor would it be the last).

Percival greeted at wandpoint. “Oh,” he said dully. “It’s you.”

“It’s me,” Gellert agreed. “Do you have room for another?”

“Fuck you, Wulfric,” Percival said, but he didn’t hex him or chase him out, so Gellert followed him back to bed.

Herr Graves didn’t know it, but it was their last night. He’d served Gellert well, this past month, in bed and beyond. Gellert was well-fucked enough to be slow, and gentle, and courteous, kissing Percival’s stiff lips and his cheeks and his eyes, closed lidded and faintly salty. He petted Percival’s hair, his arms, and his thighs, very lightly, worshipping him, memorizing the last of him. Gellert thought that he could probably Transfigure himself into Graves now, without the need of Polyjuice, having memorized the crevices of him, the rise and fall of his edges.

“Please,” Percival said, very, very quietly, almost a sob.

Please what, Gellert wondered vaguely, but not enough to go looking. Please fuck me? Please love me? Please end me?

“Ok, Liebling,” Gellert said, and wrapped his arms around Percival, bringing the man’s face to his chest. He let Percival fall asleep to the steady beat of his lifeblood, no longer spilled across the trenches. In turn, he listened to Percival’s heartbeat through his hands, through his skin, and wondered if Albus’ heart was beating at the same rhythm, somewhere far away, too far away for Gellert to ever follow.

In the morning, he took a single strand of greying hair from Percival’s head like a trophy, or a Pensieve memory, and slipped out and into the hustle and bustle of New York City, shedding Wulfric the German soldier like snakeskin with every step, shedding his emotions and his sex and the feeling of lingering regret, emerging from it indisputably Gellert Grindelwald, once more, back on the hunt for the Deathly Hallows. His next lead to the Elder Wand pointed him back East, to a small town in the rags ends of the Soviet Republic. To a man called Gregorovitch, who bragged of a possessing weapon no one could best...

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
